The night was still.
Kei had fallen asleep on the couch again, a book half-open on his chest, one of Pride's highlighters lodged in his hair. The rest of the house was silent—unusually so.
At least, until a soft hum echoed from the attic.
His penlight barely cut the gloom as he climbed up. The attic was cluttered, filled with sealed trunks, timeworn scrolls, and antique furniture that looked like it belonged in a museum.
And then…he saw it.
A dusty, moth-eaten tapestry, hanging behind a cracked mirror. It showed seven figures in cloaks, surrounding a burning city. Their faces were blurred with time—but one had Vel's sharp grin. Another had Nebu's tired eyes. And the tallest one…
"Aris?" Kei whispered.
He pulled the tapestry aside.
Behind it was a lockbox with a strange emblem—seven interlocking rings. It clicked open with almost no effort. Inside was an old journal. The pages were yellowed, the ink faded, but the title was still legible:
"Our Last Year as Humans."
Kei didn't even realize he was holding his breat
Entry One (Written in a refined, regal script)
"We weren't born as sins. We were named as them, later—after the collapse. After the judgment. But once, we were…people. Flawed, loud, brilliant, doomed people."
Kei flipped to the next page, but before he could continue, the air behind him shifted.
A low voice murmured, "You shouldn't be reading that."
He spun. Aris stood there, arms folded. But her usual cool poise was missing—her expression was unreadable. Not angry. Not surprised. Just...quiet.
"I found it by accident," Kei said, voice dry. "So. It's true. You weren't always...this."
"We were worse," Rika's voice came from behind. She stepped into view, eyes dimmer than usual. "We were real. That made it harder."
One by one, the others gathered—Vel in a wrinkled T-shirt, Tobi holding half a donut, Mav dusting her sleeves. Even Nebu had dragged herself in, barefoot and blinking.
Aera stood in the back, arms crossed, unreadable.
"We don't talk about the past," Pride said softly. "Because we lost it. Because we gave it up."
Kei looked down at the book. "Why?"
A long silence.
Then Lust—Vel—spoke, her voice unusually raw. "Because the world asked us to become monsters…and we said yes."
Tobi's usual cheer faded. "Some of us faster than others."
"We weren't evil," Nebu murmured. "But we broke. And when we did…the cracks let something else in."
Kei sank down onto an old trunk, stunned. "How long?"
Pride looked at him, eyes glittering with age no human should carry. "More than a thousand years. We stopped counting after the empires fell."
Aera chuckled bitterly. "Kei. You're the first mortal we've let this close in centuries. Maybe we're finally bored of lying."
Kei stared at the journal in his lap. At the women—no, the beings—who lived with him. Slept, fought, cooked, cried, and argued beside him.
"You're not monsters," he said. "You're just…tired."
Silence again. Then Rika scoffed. "You say that now."
Vel glanced at Kei. "You still wanna live with us, knowing we traded our souls for names?"
Kei stood up, facing all of them. His voice didn't waver.
"I already live with you. Knowing or not. And frankly? I think you all need someone to remember who you used to be."
No one spoke. Even Pride looked away.
Then Nebu sniffled. "That was…almost inspiring. Gross."
They laughed. Just a little.
Kei looked around. "So. Are we done pretending now?"
Aris stepped forward, placing one elegant hand over the journal.
"No," she said. "But maybe…we're done pretending to you."